


Tomato Stains and Punctuality Pains

by FantasiaV



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3650130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasiaV/pseuds/FantasiaV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That awkward moment when your supposed to be at your boyfriend's concert but there's tomato juice spilled all over your formal attire and you can't find anything else decent to wear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomato Stains and Punctuality Pains

**Author's Note:**

> A fun game I recommend here is "count the music puns"

“I know we’re late. Gott verdammt I know and I’m ready. It’s bruder—he’s still holed up in his room looking for something else to wear.”

Roderich can roll his eyes because, thankfully, Ludwig can’t see him on the other end of the call. It’s thirty minutes until the concert starts and neither Beilshmidt has left the house yet. It’s the curse of sharing a ride, but at least they are blessed to have one. God alone knows how many times Ludwig has been out of the country with the car, forcing Gilbert to retrieve the old bicycle from its forlorn place in the shed and pedal for a good half hour to change clothes in the theatre's bathroom. He's always in his seat on time, grinning proudly when the curtains rise, but it's a rushed, haphazard process. Roderich knows this even though Gilbert offers no complaints. The Austrian would have offered to give him a ride himself... If he wasn't forced into rehearsal the moment daylight broke out.

He has been practicing for hours, taking sporadic breaks with the other musicians only to stop his hands from cramping. Still, he's the envy of the orchestra, who's grumbling members have been driving angry little cuts into their fingers with taut nylon. Playing piano certainly has its benefits, especially in the winter when said orchestra members bemoan their cracked and split skin.

Roderich can't understand what's taking Gilbert so long. The Prussian is far more organized than he can ever hope of being, as much as he detests admitting so.

“Just put him on the line. I have to warm up with the ensemble soon.”

As if on cue, the conductor begins to assemble the players. Cellists and violinists fill up the space behind the stage, pulling Roderich back and forth in a sea of concert-ready musicians. He gets a few pats on the shoulder and several well wishes he’s forced to nod and murmur thanks to. They're making their way to their concert seats and that's when it strikes Roderich that his sheet music is still wedged between folders and composition books. For the love of --

“Roddy?”

Thank God. It’s Gilbert.

“Okay I know we’re really late already but it’s not my fault! Damn dog bumped into me and, contrary to the stupid ad, I shouldn’t have had a V8." Gilbert is clearly riled up, furious that he's late and even more furious that his oh so perfect shelving system has failed in its time of need. "Do tomato stains even come out?”

“Focus on finding your other suit.” Roderich struggles to make his way past the waves of musicians. He almost gets stabbed in the eye thrice: once with a viola bow and twice with cello bows. As guest accompanist, he really should get more respect. And as a philharmonic, the ensemble should be much better composed.

“I am!" Gilbert is only getting more and more frantic. "I cant find it anywhere! I checked West's closet too! Twice!”

“I said focus... Not dither around the house like some chicken without a head.” He reaches the rehearsal room and scans the area for his 'man purse', as Gilbert so affectionately dubs it. It takes a while, but he at last finds it partially obscured by a stray tuba case. He doesn't question why there's a tuba in a room designated for a string ensemble. He's seen far weirder things in these rehearsal rooms.

Despite his frustration, Gilbert sniggers. It’s the morbid sort of chicken humor that always gets him laughing.

“I focused for like five seconds. Nada.” Clearly, Gilbert doesn't want to play this way. “Just give me a hint.”

“Alright think back to the _night_ of the last concert.” The sheet music is just where he left it. Roderich has a knack for remembering these things, a knack that Gilbert often calls a pity as it will never be used for the sake of tidiness. The Austrian has just had to settle with the fact that the other would never see the beauty of "organized chaos."

“What the hell do you — OH.”

He remembers instantly. _That_ night. Right.

“Mhmm… Do you remember where I leave my spare keys or have you forgotten that too?"

“Yeah yeah, my memory's not that bad. Hold on lemme go tell West..." There's footsteps and then a sudden yell that makes Roderich wonder why those steps were even necessary. "HEY WEST DETOUR TO RODDYS HOUSE.”

Roderich winces and there’s a groan from the younger Beilschmidt. They will just barely manage to make it on time to the concert. Just barely.

“Oh and Gil? Liebe?”

“Yes Roderich, daaarling?” Gilbert's rushed, but he still finds the time to tease. He always does.

“Tomato stains come out with water and a bit of lemon.”

“…Are you kidding me?”


End file.
